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To his thoughts the sacred name
Of his mother Astrid came,

And the tale she oft had told
Of her flight by secret passes
Through the mountains and morasses,
To the home of Hakon old.

Then strange memories crowded back
Of Queen Gunhild's wrath and wrack,
And a hurried flight by sea;
Of grim Vikings, and the rapture
Of the sea-fight, and the capture,
And the life of slavery.

How a stranger watched his face
In the Esthonian market-place,

Scanned his features one by one, Saying, "We should know each other I am Sigurd, Astrid's brother,

Thou art Olaf, Astrid's son!"

Then as Queen Allogia's page,
Old in honors, young in age,

Chief of all her men-at-arms;
Till vague whispers, and mysterious,
Reached King Valdemar, the imperious,
Filling him with strange alarms.

Then his cruisings o'er the seas,
Westward to the Hebrides,

And to Scilly's rocky shore;
And the hermit's cavern dismal,
Christ's great name and rites baptismal,
In the ocean's rush and roar.

All these thoughts of love and strife
Glimmered through his lurid life,

As the stars' intenser light
Through the red flames o'er him trailing,
As his ships went sailing, sailing,
Northward in the summer night.

Trained for either camp or court,
Skilful in each manly sport,

Young and beautiful and tall;
Art of warfare, craft of chases,
Swimming, skating, snow-shoe races,
Excellent alike in all.

When at sea, with all his rowers, He along the bending oars

Outside of his ship could run. He the Smalsor Horn ascended, And his shining shield suspended On its summit, like a sun.

On the ship-rails he could stand,
Wield his sword with either hand,

And at once two javelins throw; At all feasts where ale was strongest Sat the merry monarch longest,

First to come and last to go.

Norway never yet had seen
One so beautiful of mien,

One so royal in attire,

When in arms completely furnished,

Harness gold-inl tid and burnished,

Mantle like a flame of fire.

Thus came Olaf to his own,
When upon the night-wind blown

Passed that cry along the shore; And he answered, while the rifted Streamers o'er him shook and shifted, "I accept thy challenge, Thor!"

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cave;

Alone in her chamber

Wept Thora, the fairest of women.

Said Karker, the crafty, "I will not slay thee!
For all the king's gold I will never betray thee!"
"Then why dost thou turn so pale, O churl,
And then again black as the earth?" said the Earl.
More pale and more faithful

Was Thora, the fairest of women.

From a dream in the night the thrall started, saying,

"Round my neck a gold ring King Olaf was laving!"

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And Hakon answered, "Beware of the king!
He will lay round thy neck a blood-red ring.'
At the ring on her finger

Gazed Thora, the fairest of women.

At daybreak slept Hakon, with sorrows encum

bered,

But screamed, and drew up his feet as he slum

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She heard the birds sing, she saw the sun shine, The air of summer was sweeter than wine.

Like a sword without scabbard the bright river lay

Between her own kingdom and Norroway.

But Olaf the King had sued for her hand, The sword would be sheathed, the river be spanned.

Her maidens were seated around her knee,
Working bright figures in tapestry.

And one was singing the ancient ruue
Of Brynhilda's love and the wrath of Gudrun.

And through it, and round it, and over it all
Sounded incessant the waterfall.

The Queen in her hand held a ring of gold,
From the door of Lade's Temple old.

King Olaf had sent her this wedding gift,
But her thoughts as arrows were keen and swift.

She had given the ring to her goldsmiths twain,
Who smiled, as they handed it back again.

And Sigrid the Queen, in her haughty way,
Said, "Why do you smile, my goldsmiths, say?"
And they answered: "O Queen! if the truth
must be told,

The ring is of copper, and not of gold!"

The lightning flashed o'er her forehead and cheek, She only murmured, she did not speak :

"If in his gifts he can faithless be, There will be no gold in his love to me."

A footstep was heard on the outer stair, And in strode King Olaf with royal air.

He kissed the Queen's hand, and he whispered of love,

And swore to be true as the stars are above.

But she smiled with contempt as she answered: "O King,

Will you swear it, as Odin once swore, on the ring?"

And the King: "O speak not of Odin to me, The wife of King Olaf a Christian must be."

Looking straight at the King, with her level brows,

She said, "I keep true to my faith and my Vows."

Then the face of King Olaf was darkened with gloom,

He rose in his anger and strode through the room.

Why, then, should I care to have thee?" he said,

A faded old woman, a heathenish jade!"

His zeal was stronger than fear or love, And he struck the Queen in the face with his glove.

Then forth from the chamber in anger he fled, And the wooden stairway shook with his tread.

Queen Sigrid the Haughty said under her breath, This insult, King Olaf, shall be thy death!" Heart's dearest,

Why dost thou sorrow so?

V.

THE SKERRY OF SHRIEKS.

Now from all King Olaf's farms
His men-at-arms

Gathered on the Eve of Easter;
To his house at Angvalds-ness
Fast they press,

Drinking with the royal feaster.

Loudly through the wide-flung door
Came the roar

Of the sea upon the Skerry;
And its thunder loud and near
Reached the ear,

Mingling with their voices merry.
"Hark! " said Olaf to his Scald,
Halfred the Bald,

"Listen to that song, and learn it!
Half my kingdom would I give,
As I live,

If by such songs you would earn it!
"For of all the runes and rhymes
Of all times,

Best I like the ocean's dirges,
When the old harper heaves and rocks,
His hoary locks

Flowing and flashing in the surges!"

Halfred answered: "I am called
The Unappalled!

Nothing hinders me or daunts me.
Hearken to me, then, O King,

While I sing

The great Ocean Song that haunts me."

"I will hear your song sublime
Some other time,"

Says the drowsy monarch, yawning,
And retires; each laughing guest
Applauds the jest;

Then they sleep till day is dawning.

Pacing up and down the yard,
King Olaf's guard
Saw the sea-mist slowly creeping
O'er the sands, and up the hill,
Gathering still

Round the house where they were sleeping.

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THE guests were loud, the ale was strong,
King Olaf feasted late and long;
The hoary Scalds together sang;
O'erhead the smoky rafters rang.

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

The door swung wide, with creak and din;

A blast of cold night-air came in,
And on the threshold shivering stood
A one-eyed guest, with cloak and hood.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

The King exclaimed, "O graybeard pale!
Come warm thee with this cup of ale."
The foaming draught the old man quaffed,
The noisy guests looked on and laughed.

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang. Then spake the King: "Be not afraid; Sit here by me." The guest obeyed, And, seated at the table, told Tales of the sea, and Sagas old.

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

And ever, when the tale was o'er,
The King demanded yet one more;
Till Sigurd the Bishop smiling said,
"T is late, O King, and time for bed."

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

The King retired; the stranger guest
Foilowed and entered with the rest;
The lights were out, the pages gone,
But still the garrulous guest spake on.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

As one who from a volume reads,
He spake of heroes and their deeds,
Of lands and cities he had seen,
And stormy gulfs that tossed between.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

Then from his lips in music rolled
The Havamal of Odin old,
With sounds mysterious as the roar
Of billows on a distant shore.

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

"Do we not learn from runes and rhyrnes
Made by the gods in elder times,
And do not still the great Scalds teach
That silence better is than speech?"

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

Smiling at this, the King replied,
Thy lore is by thy tongue belied;
For never was I so enthralled
Either by Saga-man or Scald."

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

The Bishop said, "Late hours we keep!
Night wanes, O King! 't is time for sleep!"
Then slept the King, and when he woke
The guest was gone, the morning broke.

Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.

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